


The promises you never gave

by acidpop25



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Closeted Character, Crush, F/F, Lesbian Character, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidpop25/pseuds/acidpop25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mal is bi when she's drunk, and Ariadne just wants to be with a woman who's not ashamed of her. College AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The promises you never gave

_hey u coming out w/ us tonight?_

Ariadne smiles slightly but rolls her eyes as she reads Mal's text. It's only Wednesday, and she has a History of Architecture test tomorrow, but she texts back anyway.

 _Who's us?_

 _the usual group & that hot business major._

Ariadne chews her bottom lip for a moment, rolling over on to her back on the bed. She shouldn't, but... it's Mal, and Mal is hard to say no to. Mal is especially hard to say no to when Ariadne knows she'll probably be drinking. She sighs and caves in.

 _What time?_ she texts back, just as she hears the door swing open.

"Hey," Arthur calls, and there is a thump as he drops his bag by the door, followed by the sound of footsteps. He's unbuttoning his shirt cuffs when he walks through the open door into Ariadne's tiny room of their suite.

"Hey, Arthur." She flips her phone shut and sits up. "How was class?"

"Fine. Are you going out tonight?"

"Probably. Mal texted you, right?"

He nods, settling down in her desk chair. "Yeah. My first class tomorrow isn't until eleven, so I said I'd go. I'm surprised you're coming, though– don't you have a test?"

Ariadne shrugs. "Yeah, but."

"But Mal asked?" Arthur finishes knowingly. Ariadne makes a face.

"Could you maybe make it sound less pathetic?"

"I don't think being in love with Mal is pathetic," Arthur replies gently. "She's a beautiful, lively, smart woman. I mean, if women were my thing you might have some competition from me."

"Great. That makes you the only guy she knows who doesn't want to nail her."

"Oh, that's a little harsh on Eames."

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "Eames would be all over her if he weren't so busy being all over you."

"Don't bother to thank me."

Ariadne snorts. "From the sounds you make when he's over, it's its own reward."

"Perv."

"Hey, you're the one who screams the walls down," she retorts. "I'm in my own room peacefully resting or working on homework, and it's all _ohhh Eames, yes, harder_."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah." Ariadne hops to her feet and skirts the end of her bed to reach the closet. She pulls out a purple top after a moment and holds it up for Arthur to see. "What do you think?"

"Might be a little slutty for a Wednesday," he replies frankly, and Ariadne considers for a moment.

"Even if I want, uh, people, to be looking?"

"How about the red shirt with the open back?" Arthur suggests. "You look really good in that."

"But do I look sexy in it?"

"Well, I think it's sexy," Arthur says, "but that's not really my area of expertise when it's a woman."

Ariadne makes a dismissive noise. "You've never steered me wrong yet, oh god of fashion."

Arthur laughs and gets up. "That's an awful lot of pressure," he tells her, heading for the door. "You'd get laid with or without me, I promise."

* * *

While it's probably true that Ariadne could get sex without Arthur's fashion opinions, she isn't convinced she could get it without alcohol. Well, not from Mal, anyway, who gets increasingly affectionate with Ariadne the more she drinks.

"You came!" she chirps delightedly, slinging an arm around Ariadne's waist. She's not drunk yet, but tipsy– the fruity cocktail in her hand is probably a good deal stronger than it looks, or else someone convinced her to do a shot to start the night. In any case, Ariadne isn't about to protest the warm weight of Mal's arm around her, the smell of her perfume.

"Let me buy you a drink," Mal says, steering her to the bar. Her hand slips in through the cutout back of Ariadne's shirt to rest on her hip, and Ariadne swallows hard.

"It's the least you could do, dragging me out so often," Ariadne agrees. "I'm gonna be broke before finals at this rate."

"Aw, pauvre, we cannot have that. Monsieur! A drink for this lovely lady."

Ariadne manages not to blush. She's not some little _schoolgirl_ , but damn if Mal doesn't make her feel like one sometimes, with her sophistication and her incredible curves.

"You're the lovely one," Ariadne says, but accepts the drink Mal hands her. Mal smiles sunnily and thanks her, and they wind their way together back to the rest of their friends. Arthur mouths 'told you' at Ariadne, who sticks her tongue out at him as they make their way to the table Yusuf has managed to stake out for them.

"Sooo," Mal says, leaning forward and stirring her straw around in her drink, "this is the infamous Saito."

"Infamous?" Yusuf echoes.

"Dom talks so much about you," Mal continues on, "and I said we all just had to properly meet this new friend."

"Does he, now," Saito says, glancing him with something akin to amusement. His voice is heavily accented, and Mal is doing that lean she does that makes her breasts look amazing, and Ariadne tries not to splash her drink at either of them. Saito manages to keep his gaze at eye level, but Ariadne doesn't bother trying– better to think about Mal's breasts than to think about her irrational jealousy issues. Arthur takes a look at her face and orders the table a round of shots, though whether to calm Ariadne down or to get Mal more drunk is impossible to tell.

It has both effects, though.

"Come dance with me," Mal says another drink later, not quite a demand– it's too pleasant, too charming, for that. She's definitely drunk, now– so is Ariadne, who is too petite to take alcohol very well– and she pulls Ariadne in close to her on the dance floor.

"Did I tell you I love this shirt?" Mal asks, splaying her hand at the small of Ariadne's back. "Because I love this shirt."

"Maybe I'll wear it more often then," Ariadne murmurs, emboldened by their closeness, "just for you."

Mal smiles. "For me?"

Ariadne presses their hips together, rocking in time to the music. "For you," she agrees, "whatever you like."

They end up back in Ariadne's room that night– Mal is too drunk for the drive back to hers– both of them stripping off each other's clothes with fumbling fingers. Mal makes delicious, whimpering little moans when Ariadne buries her head between her legs and brings her off until her jaw aches, until Mal is so boneless and exhausted from sex and alcohol that it's all she can do to stay awake while she fingers Ariadne, lazily making out with her until Ariadne moans her orgasm against Mal's lips.

They fall asleep right after, worn out.

* * *

"Oh my God," Mal moans, "my _head_."

Ariadne makes a muffled noise into the pillows. Mal's voice, usually so attractive, is mostly painful right now. Carefully, Ariadne turns over so that she'll be somewhat intelligible.

"Tylenol?" she offers in a whisper, and Mal mumbles a _oui_ into the pillows. Ariadne stumbles miserably out of bed and throws her robe on to go search some out. The main room of the suite is glaringly bright, Arthur sitting on the couch reading, and Ariadne whimpers and squints her eyes. Arthur turns at the sound.

"Oh, wow, that bad, huh?"

"Tylenol. Now."

Arthur mercifully decides against teasing her and fetches the bottle, along with a couple glasses of water.

"Go nurse yourselves back to health," he murmurs, and she shuffles back into the bedroom, back into bed. Back into bed with Mal. Ariadne swallows down her medicine and sinks under the covers, and a minute later there is a rustle as Mal does likewise. The other woman is warm beside her, so much smooth bare skin, and Ariadne nestles in against her shamelessly, Mal's breasts brushing against Ariadne's cheek with every breath.

As soon as the pain has receded, Ariadne falls right back asleep.

* * *

Mal is gone when Ariadne wakes, and when she glances at the clock she jerks bolt upright in bed and swears at the top of her lungs, even though it makes her head throb again. A moment later, Arthur pokes his head into the room, only to cough and quickly snap his eyes shut. Ariadne glances down at her bare chest and tugs the sheets up, then snaps, "You let me miss my test!"

"You were half _dead_ ," Arthur retorts. "I e-mailed Professor Mitchell that you were down with flu, you're _welcome_ , since there's no way you'd have gotten a passing grade the shape you were in."

Ariadne sinks back down on her bed. "Stop making it hard to be mad at you."

"Why, since I'm the only convenient substitute for Mal?"

"Stop being a _psych major_ ," she amends crossly, and Arthur steps inside.

"I like my major, and you know I'm right."

"I take it back, I hate you," Ariadne grumbles. Arthur pats her shoulder cautiously and says nothing, and after a minute of silence Ariadne caves.

"When did she leave?"

"About two hours ago. She looked awful too, if it's any consolation."

"The sex is my consolation. My preemptive consolation."

Arthur makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. She knows that noise; it's the noise Arthur makes when he's holding his tongue about something. Ariadne would roll her eyes if she didn't think it would make her feel dizzy again.

"What, Arthur," she prompts irritably.

"Have you ever had sex with her sober?"

"Of course I have."

"When _she_ was sober, too?"

Ariadne remains tellingly silent.

"Thought so," Arthur says. "Might want to do something about that."

* * *

It's Saturday afternoon before Ariadne gets up the nerve to make good on Arthur's admittedly sensible advice. She spends an awfully long time staring at her phone, deleting and re-writing text after text anxiously. It's one thing to be forward with Mal when they're drunk and pressed close on a dance floor; it's quite another when they're both dead sober and Ariadne is back to feeling like the token lesbian.

 _Hey, you doing anything tonight?_ Ariadne finally sends. A few minutes later, there's a chime, and Ariadne scans Mal's reply anxiously.

 _No plans yet why?_

 _Thought it might be fun to go out for a movie or dinner or something._

 _Like a girls night out_

Ariadne chews her lower lip, frowning at her screen. She shouldn't be this nervous, she berates herself. They've already had sex, after all.

 _No, like a date._

Maybe it's just Ariadne's nerves, but it feels like a much, much longer wait this time before Mal's reply comes.

 _I'm not a lesbian. I just really want to fuck you while drinking, thats normal in a friendship._

Ariadne throws her phone down on the bed and settles in for a good cry.

* * *

"Come on, kitten," Eames wheedles over the phone, "none of us have seen you in, what, over a week? Except Arthur, and him only because he lives with you. He's worried, you know. We all are."

"I just don't feel like it, Eames."

"Psh, since when do you not feel like having fun with us?"

Ariadne snaps. "Since I decided I don't want to see Mal's stupid face ever again!"

There is a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Eames says only, "Well, how about if I came over and you spent some time with me and Arthur, hm? As far as I know neither of us have done anything to you."

She sighs. "No, you haven't. I'm sorry, I just..."

"You don't need to apologise, just say yes."

"Okay. Okay, you can come over. Just give me time to shower first, I'm gross right now."

"Well, when you put it like that," Eames teases. She can hear the smile in his voice. "I'll be over in an hour, then. Sound good?"

"An hour is fine," she agrees, "see you then."

By the time Ariadne is both clean and feeling more or less fit for human company, she can already hear voices from the other room, Arthur's measured tones and Eames' lazy British drawl.

"Ariadne!" Eames exclaims, waving her over to join them. "Was beginning to think you drowned yourself instead of having to spend time with me."

"Shut up, Eames," Ariadne says affably, and plops down next to him on the sofa. "Is that Chinese food?"

"I got you kung pao," Eames agrees, handing over a white carton and a set of chopsticks. The television is on in the background, but no one is paying it much mind, and Arthur is sitting with his legs draped over Eames' lap. Ariadne opens her carton of food, and Eames, being Eames, cuts right to the point.

"So what's all this about you being angry with Mal, pet?"

She scowls. "Can we not talk about this?"

"Not when it's made you so upset."

Ariadne chews with a bit more vigor than is really necessary, stalling for time. Eames is still waiting expectantly when she has swallowed, and finally she spits out, "She'll have sex with me she's drunk but when she's sober she's a 'straight girl.'"

Eames grimaces. "I know that type. Is there anything–"

"There's nothing you can do unless you can turn straight girls gay."

"Afraid not. I've only managed that on straight guys."

"Supposedly straight ones," Arthur interjects, and leans over to steal a piece of Ariadne's chicken.

"Subject change, please," Ariadne says firmly, smacking Arthur's hand away. Eames chuckles.

"My sister is coming to visit in a couple weeks," he offers. "I think it's mostly an elaborate plot to avoid our parents during mum's pre-holiday frenzy, but still, I haven't seen her in ages."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

"You'd like her," Arthur remarks thoughtfully, "I've met her once, she's a cool girl. Really artistic."

"Sometimes I think you like her better than me, Arthur."

"There, there," Arthur soothes, "you have plenty she doesn't."

"Like my charming personality?"

"Like your cock."

Ariadne snorts. "I see what you two share is very deep."

"Deep as we can," Eames says with a lecherous wink, and Ariadne and Arthur both thump him on the shoulders.

* * *

"Come on," Arthur coaxes, "I'll protect you from Mal if you want, but you have to come. Eames is bringing Theresa."

Ariadne frowns. "Never mind protecting me from Mal. You have to protect me from _me_ , so I don't do something dumb."

Arthur settles cross-legged on her bed, watching her. He's already dressed to go out, tight black jeans and his hair slicked back. "So you've decided you're done, then."

She sighs. "What else can I do? She's not gonna magically decide to stop playing straight anytime soon, she made that pretty clear, and I want someone who'll actually _be_ with me. Have you ever been with a closet case? It sucks."

"I've _been_ the closet case," Arthur admits with a frown. "Good for you, then. Standing your ground. Can't be easy, with someone like Mal."

"Jesus, no kidding," Ariadne groans. "I could write odes to her tits if I didn't suck at poetry."

"I think we're approaching TMI territory," Arthur replies. "Come on, get changed so we can go. I'll be there, Eames will be there, and if all else fails you can get Yusuf to give you weed to calm you down."

"Fine. Fine, I'll come," she relents, and tugs the first thing that comes to hand out of her closet, a blue shirt decorated with an elaborate peacock design up the side, and doesn't bother worrying about makeup or doing her hair. She's humoring Arthur, not trying to get Mal's attention. She's not.

Arthur pats her companionably on the back as they walk to the bar. "I'd offer to let you join in with me and Eames for a threesome, except for the bit where I'm gay and you're a lesbian. But if we were bi."

"You're a true friend," Ariadne says dryly, and as they walk in she cranes her neck in the direction of Eames' horrible paisley. "That girl there, is that his sister?"

"Yeah."

"Damn, good genes."

Arthur just shoots her an amused glance as they head over to the others. "Theresa!" he calls, and the newcomer turns and smiles.

"Arthur!" she exclaims, and wraps him in a hug. "It's so good to see you. Still treating my brother well, I hope."

"Against my better judgment," he replies wryly. "Theresa, this is Ariadne, she's my roommate."

"Roommate?"

"And token lesbian friend," Ariadne agrees, holding out a hand to shake. "Good to meet you."

"You too," Theresa says. Her nose crinkles adorably when she smiles, and her blue eyes have the same spark of mischief as her brother's. She's built like him, too, strong and solid, not particularly tall. Despite that, she has a terribly, dangerously curvy build, all hips and breasts and ass and thighs, practically the polar opposite of Ariadne's petite, boyish build. She has the lips, too, those same damn lips that Eames has got.

"You look so much like him," Ariadne blurts out, glancing over at Eames, and Theresa chuckles, low and rich in her throat.

"Yeah, I get that all the time. I'm only a year younger than him."

"You're my age, then."

"Really?" Theresa eyes Ariadne contemplatively. "You've got quite a baby face, then. Good thing, though, juvenile delinquency is more Eames' thing than mine."

Ariadne grins. "Eames, get in trouble as a kid? Surely not," she says sarcastically, and Theresa laughs.

"Oh, the stories I could tell..."

"Sis, no!" Eames protests, but Theresa is already leading Ariadne off toward the bar and starting in on the time she dared Eames to steal the neighbor's car.

"I'll get this round," Ariadne offers on a whim when they pause to order their drinks. "What'll it be?"

"Rum and coke, please."

"Sounds good. Make it two," she tells the bartender, then turns back to listen as Theresa continues her story. She's witty and friendly and gestures when she talks, and her accent is honey-smooth, but even so Ariadne's gaze strays across the room to where Mal is draping herself over Dom.

Theresa breaks off and glances over her shoulder. "Am I boring you?"

"No! No, sorry, I just. Sorry." Ariadne rubs her eyes and returns her attention firmly to Theresa. "It's just that Mal and I sort of had a thing, and it was really mess and I haven't seen her since."

At that, Theresa turns again to inspect Mal more carefully. "Her, really? She doesn't... exactly seem the type. Hot though."

"Yeah, well. She's the type who's only bi when she's drunk."

Theresa groans. "Oh, _bummer_ ," she says sympathetically, "your next drink is on me."

"Oh. Well, thanks," Ariadne answers, a little startled. Theresa shrugs.

"Her loss. It's usually best for everyone to be honest about your sexuality, you know? You don't have to hide it and make yourself miserable, and it's way easier to get with someone."

"Kinda sounds like personal experience talking."

"Well, yeah. I go both ways." She grins. "I'm the stereotype of the sexually adventurous creative type, I guess."

Ariadne decides against pursuing that, and diverts the topic. "Artist? What kind?"

"The indecisive kind," Theresa answers, "I do a bit of everything, honestly, I like all kinds of work. Painting, drawing, sculpture. Anything I can be expressive in, you know?"

"I kind of do, actually," Ariadne says, smiling over the rim of her glass. "I'm an architecture student, so I guess you could sort of say buildings are my art."

"Oh cool!" Theresa exclaims. "I know absolutely nothing about it. Tell me."

* * *

"Ariadne!" Mal singsongs, "Chérie, I have not seen you in so long! Come and dance with me."

"Um," Ariadne says eloquently as Mal invades her space. The smell of French perfume. "Actually I'd rather not."

"No?" Mal looks hurt. "But we always have fun, don't we?"

"You have fun, maybe," Ariadne retorts, and suddenly instead of sad she feels anger welling up over the hurt. "Maybe it doesn't mean anything to you, Mal, but it means something to me, and you can't keep using me when you drink and then tell me you're straight in the morning!"

"I _am_ straight."

"Then stop jerking me around!" Ariadne snaps, and pushes Mal back. There is silence from their friends, uncomfortable and a little shocked, but Theresa breaks it, just grabs Ariadne's hand and tugs her on to the dance floor.

"If I'm just rescuing you from that major awkwardness, I'm completely fine with that," Theresa says once they're out of earshot, "but if you're interested... I wouldn't mind it meaning something else."

"You just met me tonight," Ariadne points out, but she's not exactly objecting. Theresa smiles at her and leans down to rest their foreheads together.

"Am I moving too fast?"

"Well." Ariadne bites back a grin. "Even a cramped bed is probably better than your brother's floor."

"Absolutely true."

There is a laugh bubbling up in Ariadne's throat, and she smothers it against Theresa's lips.

* * *

"Fuck, fuck, _Theresa_ ," Ariadne gasps, her fingers tightening desperately in the other woman's hair. Theresa doesn't stop the expert swirling of her tongue on Ariadne's clit, but she glances up, watches the frantic rise and fall of Ariadne's chest as she pushes her closes and closer to the edge. Ariadne is _dripping_ with it, There's saliva and her own juices coating her, running down her inner thighs, and God, Theresa's plush mouth must be slick with it. The thought draws another moan from Ariadne, and Theresa brings a hand up and pushes to fingers into her, presses just _so_ as she sucks on Ariadne's clit, and suddenly Ariadne is coming almost violently, shuddering apart against Theresa's mouth, practically gushing with her orgasm and deafened by the blood pounding in her ears as she cries out.

Theresa smiles at her and licks her lips, watching as Ariadne lies boneless on the bed, trying to catch her breath.

"Oh my God," she finally murmurs, "why would I ever want to fuck a straight girl, none of them can do _that_."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Theresa purrs, sliding up Ariadne's body for a kiss. Ariadne pulls her down gladly, tasting herself on Theresa's mouth and Theresa doubtless tasting herself from earlier, and Mal was always squeamish about that, about making out after Ariadne had gone down on her. Theresa evidently has no such reservations, and they kiss and kiss and kiss until they're both practically falling asleep.

"We can continue this in the morning," Theresa murmurs with a yawn, and Ariadne smiles to herself as she snuggles in against her. Theresa will actually _be_ there in the morning.

* * *

"And to think you complain about how loud _I_ am," Arthur snipes by way of greeting when Ariadne shuffles out of her bedroom. He's dressed and reading the newspaper, sipping at a cup of coffee. Ariadne rolls her eyes at him.

"Not letting you ruin my day," she singsongs, breezing past him to the tiny kitchen to pour herself a cup of orange juice. A few minutes later, Theresa appears, dressed in last night's jeans and one of the oversized t-shirts Ariadne often sleeps in. Her hair is messy and loose around her face, and she looks sleepy and pleased with herself.

"Good morning, Arthur," she greets him, and he glances between the two women.

"Good morning. Are you two planning on having more loud, girly sex today?"

Theresa grins. "I'll be awfully disappointed if we don't."

"Right then. In that case, I think I'll pay Eames a visit and leave you to it," he replies, folding up his paper. "I learned more about Ariadne's sex life last night than I had any need to know. Just don't fuck on the couch, please."

"No promises," Ariadne retorts with a cheeky smile, but Arthur doesn't take the bait and soon it's just the two women in the kitchen, eating cereal together. There is a comfortable quiet between them, peaceful, and when they're done with breakfast Ariadne takes Theresa's dishes despite her protests.

"You're a guest," Ariadne reminds her, "so I'll rinse these off, and you can just go back to bed and I'll meet you there in a minute."

"And then," Theresa promises, "we'll shag until we can't move anymore, yeah?"

"Absolutely."

After cleaning the dishes, Ariadne pauses just for a moment at her laptop to flip it open and leave a note on Eames' Facebook wall not to expect his sister back for a while– but she pauses at the news feed, which proclaims beside a cheerful heart that Dominick Cobb and Mallorie Beaureve are in a relationship.

Figures.

She leaves the note for Eames and then shuts her computer– Theresa is lying in bed, waiting, and already stripped out of her clothes. She's beautiful in the late-morning light that slants in through the cracks in the blinds, golden skin and pale brown hair and clever blue-grey eyes that sparkle with warmth and wickedness when she sees Ariadne, then soften into something gentler.

"You okay?" she asks, and Ariadne smiles at her and shakes off her thoughts of Mal.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm fine." It's not entirely true, not yet, but it will be. She knows that.

"Come over here, then. I'm only in town for a week."

"You better stay in touch."

Theresa smirks at her, tilting her head. "Sure thing. Next time, you can come to England and visit me."

Ariadne slides back into bed and kisses her. "I'd like that."


End file.
